A Sweet Flirtation
by dragoon811
Summary: When Hermione tried a new spot for lunch, she did not expect dessert to draw her to another diner...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: This is all because I bought Cara McGee's original Inktober of Snape &amp; Sugar Quills. I was quite overcome (it's a seriously sexy smirk) and this burst forth. Please bear in mind that it's a bit of food-erotica? I guess? This is smut, a pwp, and if voyeurism of a sort plus two consenting adults later doing the horizontal tango offends you, don't read this. If, on the other hand, you want Hermione catching Snape innocently having a dessert and things getting out of hand... well, then.

**Author's Note 2**: I know that WWoHP sells Sugar Quills, and that they are basically lollipops. However, I've always pictured them like the big fluffy white feather pens you see for signing guest books. Like, spun sugar and airy, or maybe some quills were sold to look like normal every day quills. I don't know. But I'm going with my own head-canon here. I'm sorry: this note, like the fic, has gotten away from me.

**Author's Thanks To**: Thanks to Gemini Sister for Brit-picking, and to StrongHermione and kci47 for your eyes in catching all my oops and errors. Thanks to Toby for being my sounding board, and as always, many thanks to Vanessa and Jesi for being my cheerleaders. I love you all! 3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters therein, and am simply borrowing them for a while.

* * *

The little cafe in the farthermost corner of Diagon Alley was not Hermione's usual choice for lunch, but from her very first visit there, she was hooked. It wasn't that the food was great—it was good, but certainly not the best—and it wasn't that the service was spectacular—it was decent—and it certainly wasn't the prices—they were comparable. Hell, for once, it wasn't even the privacy she had found in the worn wooden booths.

No. The little cafe, whose name had long since worn off the sign and no one had bothered to repaint it, was not, precisely, what captivated her.

Hermione had come in and ordered that first Thursday, then promptly sat down. It wasn't until she was seated and had given up on occupying herself by fidgeting with the tassels on her bag before she looked around the room.

It was a nice place: nondescript menu board listing the specials in glowing blue chalk and a lamp on every table. The white walls were dingy, but otherwise clean and unadorned. The lone window was admittedly quite large, but a cluster of witches and wizards were at that table, knitting and chatting quietly.

There were a few pairs of other patrons scattered among the room, but it was the only other single diner that caught her eye.

Hermione normally would have instantly recognised any of her professors anywhere, but he looked...so different today. The six years of peace—and not teaching—had been kind to him, and it took her a moment of staring before she realised that it was Snape.

Snape looked surprisingly relaxed; his long legs stretched out underneath the table and crossed at the ankles. He was missing the usual robes over that stuffy-looking frock coat, but he was still fully buttoned. There was something...different about him. Maybe it was the mug of tea or the mostly-finished sandwich, or the way he was so fully focused on his book. Maybe it was the very end of what appeared to be a Sugar Quill that he held idly to his mouth. After all, she had never really associated the man with sweets. He just wasn't the strict, harsh professor or the resentful invalid she remembered.

Unabashed, Hermione stared for a long moment.

She watched him frown thoughtfully at his book, crunching on the last of the quill. Sugar crystals gathered at the corner of his mouth and his tongue darted out to capture them. As she watched, Snape licked his fingers, sucking each of them clean of the treat before drying them on his napkin. He wiped his thin lips with that same linen, his eyes never leaving the page of his book.

Hermione found herself fascinated.

He was closing the book and cancelling the hover charm when her food arrived, distracting her. Hermione thanked the witch who'd brought her the goblet of pumpkin juice and she inspected her order—soup, crackers, and a meat pasty—to ensure it was correct. It even smelled good! Far better than the fare at the Ministry canteen.

When she looked up at the man who had occupied her attention, she found Snape glowering at her. Startled, Hermione gave him a small smile and a polite nod. Unwilling to maintain eye contact or admit she'd been staring, she bent to her meal and resolutely began to eat.

After a few bites, she felt the hair on her neck prickle and she glanced up. Snape was standing by the door, holding it open, and staring at _her _with a peculiar look. He didn't say anything as he vanished out into the bustle of Diagon Alley.

* * *

Hermione could not have said what drove her to return the next day, but she did. She even arrived a little earlier than before, but Snape never showed up. She was oddly relieved, but there was a niggling disappointment that kept her coming back every workday.

On her walks through Diagon, she noticed that Snape closed his specialty shop every day at the same hour for lunch. Fittingly, it was the only shop with two acknowledged entrances, seeing as how it was on the corner between Diagon and Knockturn Alleys. She had been the one to file his permits and licenses, and knew that he sold mainly potions not kept in stock at the apothecary, but wasn't above a little spellcrafting, either.

It was a week since she had first seen him that Snape showed up at the cafe again. He came in, sat down at the booth he clearly had decided was his, and put a stack of coins at the table's edge. Hermione was brushing her hair out of her face as she covertly studied him when he caught her looking, his book half out of his pocket.

Snape grimaced, but Hermione merely flashed him a smile and kept eating her sandwich, nervous. His eyes narrowed, but when she did not pester him, his lips thinned and he sat stiffly, opening his book. He ignored her, so focused on doing so that he barely even looked up as the witch waiting tables scooped up the coins and then returned with what must be his usual order.

Merlin, but it took everything she had not to stare at him this time. Hermione stole glances at him under her fringe, looking up from her own book. He was slowly relaxing, his posture loosening until his legs were extended under the table and crossed at the ankles. By time she had finished her meal and a chapter, Snape had finished his own meal. And still, there was a different quality about him, something she could not quite put her finger on.

A few minutes after finishing his sandwich, he pulled a brown paper bag from his pocket, and from that emerged a pristine white sugar quill. The rustle of the paper was what stole her attention from her book and made her watch him.

Hermione was fascinated. It was as if he had forgotten she was there, and he began to eat his quill. It took all of six minutes for her to figure out what was different about Snape.

He was sexy.

Dead sexy, in an aloof, sensual sort of way.

How had she never _noticed _before?

I was a student, she told herself. There was no way she would have gotten close enough to the man to realise it, and even if she had, she admitted that she had been too immature to realise his appeal.

And appeal it was.

Within two minutes, Hermione could feel her cheeks heat and she reflexively clenched her thighs together. It was worse because he clearly had no idea of his effect on her. No, the damn hook-nosed, greasy-haired bastard just sat there, engrossed in his book!

It had all begun innocently enough: Snape had tapped the quill's tip twice on the tabletop to break the enchantment holding it rigid, and he'd brought it to his lips, the now-soft and feathery end brushing against his large nose, but he hadn't sampled it. No, he'd frowned at his book, lips pursing, and his hand had dropped.

The end of the quill had brushed over his mouth—how had she ever thought it harsh?—and as she'd watched, Snape had scowled, moving again. Soon the feather was caressing his angular cheeks, a wisp of the quill sticking to a spot high on his cheekbone.

Hermione had known then she was in trouble, for all she could think of was crossing the room and kissing the damn sugar from his face.

Mercifully, some deity had seen fit to grant her enough fortitude not to rush across the cafe. Of course, that same deity had not made Snape stop.

When Snape returned the quill to his mouth, a quizzical expression shaping his expressive brows, Hermione gripped the edge of her table. Merlin! Snape's tongue darted out, a darker pink than his lips, those lips which were not scowling but instead parting, admitting the end of the quill, and she was certain she made a small whining noise in the back of her throat.

He didn't look up.

He was so involved in his book, so relaxed, that Hermione was staring at him openly. Her attempts at subtlety were discarded in favor of watching him. She mimicked him helplessly, her own tongue wetting her mouth, but lacked the sweet flavour she knew his would now be. Her heart was thudding against her ribs and she was terrified he would hear it across the room.

Snape tilted his head, hair spilling like silk rather than oil, nibbling the feathery bits. She was certain that her face was on fire. Hermione wanted nothing more than to be that damn sugar quill. The feather was dissolving under his lips and tongue, each pull of his mouth making her throb with desire.

His motions were languorous, drawing out each moment it would take to finish the sweet. Hermione bit her lip to keep from whimpering when the feather was gone and he began to suckle on the shaft. She swallowed hard, desperate to keep her seat even as she rocked a little in place.

Worse, she knew she was wet, could feel the heat curling deep in her stomach. Her nipples ached and her cheeks were aflame.

Her breath came faster as he began to eat the stem remaining in his hand. She imagined she could hear the crunching from here, could see the little crystals escaping. He tossed his head and his tongue darted out to gather the sugar back.

As she watched, he finished the treat and began to lick his fingers; laving each digit, sucking them into his mouth... Merlin, she wanted to do that for him! And more.

The man was going to kill her. Hermione wanted Snape, wanted him _now_, to cross the room and throw herself at him before she combusted...

No no no no no! Her rational side finally interjected, and she leapt into action.

Quickly, Hermione gathered her things, feeling the slickness between her legs make walking a perilous pleasure, and fled the building.

* * *

Hermione spent the rest of her work day a frustrated and hormonal mess. She misfiled thirteen different permits and now had a stack of paperwork to fill out and submit to have them refiled properly. In short, she was a mess and it was all Snape's fault, not that she would admit it to anyone.

No, she had passed the time being incredibly horny—well aware that she hadn't had a shag, let alone pleasured herself, in over six months—and then incredibly angry. Now, she was in denial.

"There's no way on Earth I find Snape attractive, right?" Hermione asked Crooks as he wound between her legs, purring noisily. The orange cat didn't answer her, more interested in tripping her before she could cross the linoleum and set his dish down properly. "Of course not," she answered for him as he buried his face in his food. "That's just silly of me."

Straightening with a wince, she set about heating up her own dinner. Her mind was so focused on Snape and all the reasons why she shouldn't find him arousing that she forgot to stir the soup she was reheating. Hermione scowled at the brown bits she'd scraped off the bottom of the pan now floating alongside the rice and chicken, but ate it anyway.

By nine, she had tried to lose herself in a stupid telly program and three different books. She also had an irresistible craving for something sweet, but a thorough search of her flat turned up nothing but plain white sugar. A few moments of deliberation had her trying a spoonful, but it just wasn't what she was craving.

Annoyed with herself, Hermione decided to draw a bath. She piled her hair up on her head and secured it, before pouring her favourite bath oil in the water. The room was steamy as she slipped into the warm water and leaned her head back over the edge of the bathtub.

Exhaling, Hermione forced herself to relax. Breathe in, breathe out.

She got a few breaths in before the mental image of Snape's tongue against the white quill intruded and her eyes flew open.

Hermione scowled and closed her eyes firmly. She pictured a nice, peaceful pond in a garden. Yes, she liked gardens. She tried to imagine walking down the gravel path, the crunch of it under her shoes, smelling the lavender, the hydrangeas, the jasmine...she turned a mental pathway and there was Snape again, this time with a rose and a smirk that to her now looked positively _sinful_.

"Damn it!" Hermione sat up, uncaring about the sloshing of the water onto the blue bathmat. "Accio romance novel!"

Maybe she just needed a release. Yes, that was it. Something tried-and-true. She had fixated on Snape because he was there and she hadn't taken any time for herself. That was all.

Her outstretched arm dripped and she caught the beaten-up paperback copy of 'The Pirate Prince' before it could smack her in the face. The book was her favourite, and it showed. It had survived being shoved under her mattress, into her beaded bag from the year on the run, read over messy meals and in the bathtub. It was stained with soup, tea, and tears, and survived being dropped into the bath three times.

With a determined smile, Hermione settled back and flipped it open to her favourite bit. She _would _forget about Snape and the way his tongue curled over the quill's slim shaft, the way he sucked and nibbled in small increments. She would _not_ think about him. Instead, she planned to read about the wicked pirate captain Sebastian.

A comfortable sigh escaped her lips. The heroine, Helena, had finally broken into the pirate's heart and the two were in a passionate embrace, his hands wandering her form. Hermione wished to take the curly-haired princess's place with the handsome pirate as he pressed her to the bed...

Hermione shifted in the bathtub, one hand slipping below the water to stroke between her thighs. Yes, this was what she needed. To read about a nice romp on a rocking ship in the middle of the ocean, a man who actually reciprocated... She let out a happy moan as the heroine came closer to climax, her fingers rubbing her clit.

Panting lightly, Hermione kept her eyes open, reading about the black-haired man with his face between Helena's thighs... Fire sizzled in her veins and now _she_ was close, so close... She dropped the book over the side of the bathtub, circling more quickly as her heart pounded in her ears.

She could just picture it in her mind's eye, Captain Sebastian was looking up at Helena, his mouth damp and his smirk—Hermione came with a gasp, feeling vaguely guilty that when the pirate looked up it hadn't been the tanned, rugged man she usually imagined.

It had been Snape.

Sated but annoyed, she struggled out of the bathtub.

* * *

Hermione refused to avoid the cafe. She had to prove to herself that she wasn't attracted to the man, which meant studying him. And studying him in the cafe was far safer than wandering into his shop with some ill-conceived story.

She waited all day for him to show up, and when he did not she spent her weekend working herself into a hormonal frenzy. She spun out long, torrid fantasies about him putting that tongue to good use on her body, of herself licking the residue off of those long, pale fingers of his. All of her fantasies started with Hermione trying to prove to herself that she was not attracted to him.

And she was failing at that.

The only thing to do now was see if it was more than the stupid Sugar Quill incidents.

Waiting for him to show up at the cafe became a thing. For the past two weeks, he had only showed up on Thursdays. Both weeks, he had a quill and this last time she had left aroused and frustrated. She wasn't giving up yet however.

When he turned up Wednesday the following week, he saw her in her booth and his shoulder sagged, a look of resignation on his face. But he didn't leave, just went to his table.

Holding her book up, Hermione studied him as he ate his lunch. He looked the same as she remembered, though he was a healthier colour these days. Without teaching robes or a cloak, he had a very nice form. Not, she told herself, that she was actually seriously considering what he looked like naked.

...Well _now_ she was.

Focus! she told scolded herself. The way he ate lunch was efficient, his manners tidy. Absolutely no appeal. Hermione relaxed, watching his throat work as he swallowed the last of his tea. His expression was studious and carefully blank as he read, and she wondered again what had his attention so enraptured. The title of the book was obscured again. Last week it had been something large and hardcover, this week it was something paperback, which surprised her. Knowing about Snape's upbringing as a half-blood was different than watching a man she had only ever known in the wizarding world read a paperback.

But there was no real appeal. Certainly, he wasn't handsome, but he was striking. All lean limbs and pale skin against his dark hair and clothes... Damn it, no! He was not... Hermione sighed and reached for her juice in defeat.

Alright, fine. He was attractive.

It wasn't completely a surprise, she told herself. Certainly, she'd had that whopping crush on Lockhart, but that had died a painful death. Then there was Viktor, with his heavy brow and dark looks. Ron had been the real anomaly, and a terrible choice of boyfriends. Then there had been Michael and Vincenzo, in that order. Both of whom had dark hair, angular features, a good academic grounding, and Vincenzo had had a wonderfully silky voice...

Hermione paused. Oh, dear.

She had a type.

How had she not noticed that her best relationships shared a great deal in common with _Snape_?

Frowning, she took a fortifying gulp of juice. She had never had a crush on the man, never realised he was a man, in that sense, either, for that matter. It was distressing, but now that she considered it, considered him... She resigned herself to her attraction to him. He wasn't terrible-looking, and obviously she found him sexually appealing. She knew he was acerbic, but hadn't had enough contact with him outside of a student-teacher role to know if he was any different with equals.

She assumed so, as he had seemed to get along with the other professors.

But as a conversationalist?

Hermione had lost herself in thoughts of ways to approach him and start up conversations when the rustling of a paper bag drew her attention to Snape again.

There was no Sugar Quill at the end of his meal, but he pulled out several chocolates, and Hermione found herself wondering what was in them. Were they dark chocolates? She thought the bitter would suit him. But perhaps he liked milk? Were they truffles? Caramels? Filled? She didn't dare change her seat for a better view.

She had thought she was safe with him eating chocolates, that these sweets could not possibly cause any sort of arousal, but no.

Within minutes she was hot and needy. The chocolates had melted a bit in his pocket and the mess clung to his fingers, resulting in him fastidiously licking them clean after every piece, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

At one point, he apparently liked the filling of a chocolate, for he darted his tongue inside it and she could _see _the way his tongue curled, scooping out whatever it was.

Hermione would gladly commit murder for a pair of Omnioculars. The replay alone would be worth it.

Snape bit into one that contained some sort of liquid, for it escaped and ran down his hand. The man swore softly, and Hermione exhaled shakily. Merlin, his voice! Had that been his voice while she'd been at school?

A moment later he'd unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeve and—_fuck—_he was following the glistening, sticky trail with his tongue. He was licking and suckling the base of his palm when he looked away from his book.

Straight at her. His gaze was scorching.

Hermione did the only sensible thing she could do in her flushed and highly-aroused condition.

She fled as sedately as she could manage, but still managed to bang her knee on an unoccupied table.

* * *

By lunchtime the next day, Hermione had convinced herself that she had not embarrassed herself and she walked through Diagon Alley with confidence. Her courage did waver when she opened the cafe door and saw Snape already in his booth and waiting for his meal, but she still managed to order and take her own seat with her head held high.

_He_ was watching _her_. Odd.

Pulling a mystery novel from her bag, Hermione decided to read, determined not to give the game away. At least she should be able to sink into world of the bossy Egyptologist and her grouchy husband... Actually, it was simple to fall into the plot. She barely registered when her food arrived, nudging her plate out of the way and absently eating her crisps one by one.

It was a low murmur that distracted her. Years of being his student had her zeroing in that Snape was speaking, and Hermione looked up from her book, blinking. Snape was speaking to the serving witch, her hand in his as he pressed a coin into it. His head was tilted back, his hair spilling back like ink.

His voice was too low for her to make it out, but when the witch nodded and left, he turned to Hermione with a lazy, satisfied smile.

Caught staring, Hermione flushed and gave up on her book in favor of eating her sandwich. The bread was fresh, the turkey moist, and the lettuce crisp, but while she wasn't looking at Snape she could feel his eyes on her.

It was distracting.

Chew, swallow. Don't look at Snape. Take a bite. Don't look at Snape. Chew, swallow. Don't look at Snape.

The serving witch appeared and put something down in front of Snape. When she moved, Hermione could see it was a dark chocolate cauldron cake, topped with cream and a single gleaming-red cherry. Her stomach growled; she had almost ordered one herself when she had seen it on the specials list, and now she wanted it—him—more than ever.

Snape picked up the cherry, licked the cream off, sucking lightly on the glistening fruit, then plucked and discarded the stem before pushing the cherry into the center of the cauldron cake. Hermione frowned. That was certainly an odd thing to do, but the man was focused now on bringing a spoon to the topping.

As she watched, he scooped some onto his spoon and brought it to his mouth. His tongue wet his lips and then the spoon disappeared between them. Snape's eyes fluttered closed and her breath caught. His head fell back slowly and he rolled it, looking for all the world like a man in pleasure.

"Merlin," Hermione whispered.

Snape lifted his head and opened his eyes to meet her gaze. Hermione swallowed hard but didn't look away. One black brow rose, and he set the spoon down. Her nails bit into her palms and her heart quickened as her sandwich lay on her plate, forgotten.

Was it her imagination, or was there some whipped cream in the corner of his mouth? His lips curving, Snape dropped his attention to his dessert and dipped a finger into it. It emerged with whipped cream and chocolate cream clinging to it, and he proceeded to lick the digit clean. Slowly.

Had he always had such nice hands? She remembered noticing they were clean—fastidiously so, but wasn't that to be expected of someone handle potions ingredients?—but had his fingers always been so long and slim? And deft, the way he was scooping out the cauldron cake's filling with first one finger and now two, bringing each morsel to his lips. The way he licked them, sucked them...it was indecent!

She was burning, her cheeks red, her nipples aching. Never before Snape, of all people, had she found someone eating so-so...erotic! Her hands were trembling, imagining his fingers delving into her body, curving and thrusting, instead of the dessert. Blood was rushing through her ears and she had lost all sense of public decorum and was shamelessly squirming in her booth. She did not have the presence of mind to cast a Notice-Me-Not, and was perilously close to orgasm.

Snape dried his fingers on his napkin, cupped the cauldron cake with both hands, and brought it to his mouth.

His black eyes met hers and he licked his upper lip slowly. Hermione held her breath, terrified she would moan or something equally embarrassing. Snape's eyes never left hers as he lapped at the cauldron.

With a whimper, Hermione shifted in her seat. She blinked but could not bring herself to look away. His tongue was clever, bringing up the cherry he had sunk into the cake earlier to the surface once more. As she watched, he licked it clean of the chocolate, his tongue swirling, lapping...and then he bit into the cake, his eyes closing.

Creamy filling overflowed despite his early efforts and when he looked back up at her, some cream clung to the tip of his nose, chocolate smeared around his mouth. With the most sinful, lascivious smirk she had _ever _seen, Snape licked up the cake to the cherry, gathering it into his mouth.

Hermione shuddered as she came, her eyes falling shut.

When her heart had calmed and she could breathe again, Snape was not in his chair. The half-eaten cake lay on its plate next to the dirty napkin, the other diners seemingly oblivious to what had just transpired.

"I trust I will see you tomorrow, Miss Granger," came the purr above her and she very nearly hit him with her hair in her haste to turn. His voice washed over her. Oh god, his voice was deeper than she remembered. It rumbled through her, commanded her attention... She was unable to reply.

Snape said nothing further, merely gave her a knowing smile and strode confidently out of the cafe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Just a reminder, this is a PWP. Meaning smut. Much smut. If you don't like it, don't read it. If you are underage, you probably shouldn't be reading it, but I don't know your maturity level and the library doesn't card for cheap romance novels with really terrible sex, so... I am not responsible for your decisions, ok?

* * *

Hermione pushed past shoppers to the display, but it was empty. Oh, no. She had left early for lunch just for this, and it was gone. All of her careful plans were dust.

"What, you come in and don't say hi to me?" George's sudden appearance made her jump and she thumped him with her elbow. "Ouch!"

"Don't do that!" She gave him an exasperated look, but he just grinned and shrugged.

"What are you looking for?"

"Edible Dark Marks," she admitted. George raised both eyebrows.

"We don't keep many in stock these days."

"And today you've run out." Disappointment coloured her tone.

"Don't sound so glum, I've probably got a few in the back."

Hermione brightened. "Do you? I would just need one."

"Got a craving, eh?" George led the way, weaving through a handful of small children by the Pygmy Puff cages.

"Something like that," Hermione muttered, hoping she wasn't blushing. "It's certainly busy today," she said, trying to make conversation.

"Hah! It's alright. Tomorrow will be busier, but this weekend..." George clambered up a ladder. "School will be out, now that it's summer. This weekend, everyone will want everything. I've been working overtime all week, trying to make up enough stock of the popular items."

Hermione smiled. "I'd forgotten that Hogwarts would be out for the summer soon."

"You're not there," George told her practically. He shoved a box to one side. "Me, I've had to keep paying attention. Gotta keep the Hogsmeade shop full, got to be ready when school's out and about to start...it gets a little crazy. Found them!"

He slid down the ladder, grinning in triumph. "Looks like we've got blood orange, sour apple, blackberry, or sweet cherry. Take your pick, 'Mione."

"Don't laugh at me—"

"Cherry it is, then." George pressed the sweet into her hand. "No charge for you, not for that little thing."

"Really, George—"

"Call it payback for the punching telescope."

She sighed. "When will you decide you've paid enough for that?"

George shrugged. "When it stops making you give in."

Laughing, Hermione tucked the Mark into her bag and George steered her towards the door. "Sorry to hurry off."

"It's Thursday." Thursday. Her stomach knotted. Would Snape have another Sugar Quill? "It's a workday and lunchtime. Have a good one."

She kissed his cheek. "Thanks, George."

"No problem." He waved her off and Hermione walked happily down the Alley despite the warm summer sun.

The knitting group was back this week, she noted as she blinked, adjusting to the relative dark of the cafe. Snape, however, had not arrived. She ordered the special and took her seat, pulling out her book. Her eyes darted up every few minutes, and when she saw the man in his usual seat, she lifted the mystery higher to hide her grin.

He was here, he had come! Anticipation bubbled in her stomach as she waited for her meal to arrive. She wanted to eat so she could start her retaliation. She thanked the serving witch with a smile and set her book down. Snape had also been served and was watching her.

Hermione smiled at him, too, and began to eat her lunch in earnest. Ever since he'd given her that little show yesterday, she could only imagine that he was, well, _interested_. Especially after his parting words.

She had mulled over his words, wondering what she was getting herself into. Even as she had planned her reply, had taken care with choosing her robes and even bothering with a bit of cosmetic enhancement, she had asked herself: did she really want to flirt with the potential disaster? Did she really want Snape and all that could possibly entail? Did she still want him even if it turned out to be only a fling?

Yes she did.

Hermione finished her sandwich, brushing crumbs from the last of the crunchy French bread from her fingers. Snape had finished his own meal in what seemed like record time, for he was leaning back, his arms crossed imperiously over his chest and watching her expectantly. He held a Sugar Quill loosely in one hand, the fluffy feather contrasting starkly against his black frock coat.

Smiling at him, Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out the Mark. She unwrapped it slowly, gently. While she wasn't particularly keen on cherry as a flavour, the red and the reminder of his own actions yesterday should make her message clear. Then again, she had had to have gone one step further with choosing a bloody Edible Dark Mark. Subtlety was not her strong suit: she may as well be shouting, "Yes, your interest is returned and I want _you_ in delicious and naughty ways".

Was it her imagination, or were his eyes darker? A trick of the lights?

Uncaring, Hermione wet her lips slowly. Watching Snape, she trailed her tongue along the Mark's contours. She felt silly and a little naughty, as if she could get caught at any moment—doing what, exactly? Eating sweets? With the snake and skull traced and shining faintly in the cafe's lights, Hermione decided to skip the preamble and stuck the whole damn thing in her mouth.

Snape twitched. He inhaled sharply, his leg stiffened and relaxed, and he clenched his fist so tightly that part of his quill snapped off and fluttered to the floor.

Drunk with her ability to unnerve him, Hermione set herself to work. It wasn't about watching him anymore. No, she was going to _enjoy_ the damn Mark. And she was going to ignore him as much as possible, make him suffer.

She slid the Mark in and out of her mouth a few times, acclimating herself to the curves and ridges. Hermione drew out each suck, lapping when the sweet was too damp or slick. She could not stop herself from wondering what it would be like to suck Snape's cock. Was he long or short? Thick or thin? What did he like?

Allowing herself a glance from under her lashes, she saw the man in question sitting in the same position, most of the quill on the floor in tattered pieces, and so tense she wondered that he wasn't quivering. She did not glance at his lap, hoping for a bulge. There would be no way she could tell at this distance anyway, but his eyes on her made her body heat.

The Mark's overly-sweet flavour was starting to make her a little queasy, but Hermione pressed onwards until it was there almost nothing left except for the thin white stick.

Panting, her lips and tongue stained red, she looked up at Snape and smiled as flirtatiously as she could manage.

The man saluted her with the broken stem of his quill, and she grinned wider in victory.

When she left the cafe, she blew him a kiss on impulse.

* * *

Hermione slunk into "her" seat after ordering, fanning herself from the heavy summer heat that had swept into London. Her first—and last—Edible Dark Mark had well lived up to Fred &amp; George's original campaign. It had, indeed, made her sick. She had spent most of last night clutching the rim of the loo, trying desperately to sleep in between bouts of nausea while Crooks had purred anxiously by her feet.

While the morning had found her seriously considering calling in sick to work, by lunch (and after copious amounts of tea) she was feeling better and anxiously looking forward to seeing Snape at the cafe.

She patted ineffectually at her hair. A little heat and humidity and it had fluffed out around her head. If only she had put it back this morning! Or at least brushed it. Oh well, too late now. Hermione pulled some pins from her bag and began to wrestle with the bushy mass. If she could at least get it off the back of her neck, she'd count it as a victory.

Carefully, she lowered her hands. The lopsided bun held. Ha! No, oh, damn... A few tendrils flopped free and Hermione sighed. Oh, well. It was better than nothing, and the air on the back of her neck was blessedly cool.

Hermione thanked the serving witch—she really would have to get the woman's name one of these days—and took up half of her sandwich. Tuna salad today, nice and cool. Still... Hermione chewed nervously at her lip.

Where was Snape?

The cafe was surprisingly busy today and it was slowly filling up. Anxiety gnawed on her gut as she picked at her sandwich. Hermione was working herself into a proper tizzy when the man in question pulled open the door and stepped into the cafe. He paused, his gaze sweeping over the packed room. He scowled until he lighted upon Hermione. His expression went blank and he hesitated.

Without thinking about it, she shot her hand up in the air and waved, smiling.

Snape strode across the room, and Hermione eagerly watched him come. The day's heat must have gotten to him, too, for he wore no cravat and the top few buttons of his frock coat were undone. When he moved forward, his hair swung back, giving her a small glimpse of the pale pink scarring on his neck.

"Good afternoon," Hermione said quietly as he took the seat across from her. He was flushed from the heat, sweat beading on his forehead and temples. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming today."

Snape grunted in response, plunking his coins heavily down at the edge of the table. He inhaled, paused, and then gestured towards her water glass. "May I?"

"Oh! Of course!" She handed him the glass and their fingers brushed. He inspected the glass a moment, and then deliberately turned it to drink from where she herself had drunk. Hermione flushed, watching him in awe. Merlin, he must be sweltering in his coat. Snape drank greedily, condensation running down his fingers and his throat working.

The glass was empty when he set it down with a thunk, then refilled it courteously with a nonverbal Aguamenti. Hermione smiled as the serving witch snatched up his coins. "Better?"

"Much, thank you." Her grin grew wider at his civility, even as the mellow tone washed over her. Merlin, but he had an incredible voice. They were quiet for a moment. "How is your day?"

Alright, a little awkward, but she could handle it. "Could have been better at the start. I wasn't feeling too well last night, but it passed. I would have come anyway. Wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea, after all."

Snape tilted his head and regarded her. His sandwich was set in front of him as his lips parted to speak, but he waited until the witch was gone. "And what idea is that, Hermione?"

His voice was a decadent purr and she took a deep breath. "That I wasn't looking forward to seeing you, Severus."

She was immensely proud of herself for not stumbling over his name. For all that she had thought it, saying it aloud was different. A major hurdle crossed, she thought, for _Severus _was smiling. "How reassuring. I found myself in a hurry this afternoon, lest I miss your company."

Hermione flushed happily. It should have been stranger, talking to him like this, but the awkwardness was melting away like the ice in her glass. "How is work?"

"Usually, I find it tolerable. Today I find myself itching to hex the wizard who ordered three batches of a delicate potion that requires the heat under the cauldron to rival that of a damned bonfire." Hermione winced. No wonder he'd been parched. "And he paid for a rush order, of course, so it bloody well has to be done today. My back room seems to have turned into a rather odorous sauna."

"I should have you stop by my office," she replied. "Some nitwit on my floor decided to cast a Cooling Charm, but doesn't seem to have been able to moderate just _how _cool. Or shut it off. I skidded two feet on a patch of someone's frozen spilled tea on my way out!"

Severus chuckled and Hermione smiled widely at him, feeling as if she had won some indescribable prize. She had made him laugh, and the sound delighted her.

"And of course you're not setting it to rights."

"And volunteer myself as new fixer of all problems? I think not! I have enough problems with Ron or Harry trotting down to ask for help with their reports. I rather hate filing, and I can't wait until there's a spot open on the research team. I'm starting to wish I'd taken Kingsley's offer rather than insisting I work my way up."

Severus smiled at her, the dimple on one side making a brief appearance. "Tell me, Hermione, how do you like working at the Ministry, aside from the filing?"

* * *

Their conversation had flowed smoothly from topic to topic and even Severus had relaxed in the cool air of the cafe. He had stretched out his legs, then retracted as if realising he was sharing his space. Hermione had simply extended her legs, and soon their limbs had been entwined beneath the table, the heat from his knees comforting. Severus's name tripped off her tongue easily now, and the sound of hers rolled from his lips with familiarity. She was utterly enchanted as their water glasses emptied and their lunches reduced to naught but crumbs.

"Any dessert today?" she asked at a small lull.

Severus scowled. "No. Usually I bring chocolates, but they would have melted. I did not think to prepare an alternative choice."

"I have time still before I have to get back," Hermione said. "Care to brave the heat for a trip to Fortescue's?"

He hesitated. "If you are willing."

"I offered, didn't I?" Her heart thudded against her ribs. She'd made the move, would he take it?

Severus rose from his seat, all long legs and grace. He extended a hand and she took it. His hand was warm and calloused. A tingle swept through her. "Indeed you did."

* * *

Fortescue's wasn't terribly busy, surprising them both, and soon they were seated at a small table with their treats. Hermione had used a charm on the sticky tabletop, and Severus was holding his small spoon, delicately licking the remainder of his sample. Hermione adjusted her hold on her cone. The lemon chiffon had looked cool and refreshing, but Severus must have been dead set on his usual Friday fare, for he had gone for chocolate-peanut butter with caramel sauce.

She had to admit, the sundae looked lovely. But lovelier had been waiting in line with him, the buttons on his coat occasionally brushing against her back. She would have leaned into him, but feared her unmanageable hair would catch, and, well... that wouldn't be very good now, would it? He had bent over her to gesture at the cases of frozen delicacies, giving her a whiff of whatever cologne or aftershave he used, his hair brushing over and tickling her cheek.

Every movement, gesture, murmur of his voice hitched her breath. It was so easy, being out with him. More, she was acutely aware of Severus. His breathing, his warmth, his height, his voice, the way his eyes gleamed in the sunlight...

He took a spoonful of sundae, and his tongue snaked out to lick at the frozen treat. Oh, no. Hermione inhaled sharply, heat flooding her loins. He was sexy with ice cream, too? Oh indeed he was, the way his tongue curled around the spoon! And he knew it. His gaze was steady, his lips curving into a challenging grin.

Something cold brushed against her fingers and Hermione glanced at her ice cream, which had melted slightly and was running down the cone. Looking back to meet Severus's eyes, she licked up the melted trail. Her tongue ran over her fingers and up the cone the cone until she could spiral around the ice cream.

Severus's eyes blazed. Sweet lemon dazzled her taste buds, and Hermione extended the cone with a smile. The man didn't hesitate, simply lapped at the proffered sweet then pressed his lips to her fingers. Hermione flushed and clenched her thighs together. He pulled back and offered her a bite of his sundae.

Eyes closed, Hermione opened her mouth. The spoon was cold and she closed her lips around it slowly. She took in more of the spoon as the flavour of chocolate flooded her tongue until her lips touched Severus's fingers.

He drew breath in a long hiss, and she darted her tongue out to taste his flesh.

It was almost obscene, how aroused she was to be playing this game with him in public. Hermione shivered as she grew slick and her nipples tightened. As she pulled back she opened her eyes to find him staring down her shirt, his gaze hot and his lips slightly parted.

His eyes flicked to hers and he licked his lips, a pale pink high on his sharp cheekbones. Deliberately, he licked the spoon. Melting lemon chiffon ice cream plopped onto the table, unnoticed.

* * *

They walked towards his shop, Hermione still tasting lemon on her tongue. The sun was too bright, the heat oppressive, but she could barely feel it. She was acutely aware of her hand brushing against Severus's, the way his hair fell forward to shadow his face, of how he matched his longer stride to hers. It was pleasant, keeping her body on edge. After their dessert, he was all that she could think of. She wondered what his kiss would be like, what his body was like under his clothes...

A passer-by jostled into her, pushing her against Severus, who hissed under his breath. Several children ran towards them, paying no heed to shoppers. Out of reflex, Hermione pressed herself more closely against him.

"Damn it," he cursed, hauling her back and into the nearest shadowed alcove. Hermione found her back against the brick wall, looking up into his face. He looked almost pained. "I cannot—"

She cut him off by reaching up to pull his face down and, without any preamble, kissed him soundly.

He let out a deep groan, melting against her body. The buttons on his coat scraped against those on her blouse. His chest was firm, and—oh my—she could feel a definite hardness below. Hermione wound her arms more securely around his neck. Merlin, the man could kiss! His head tilted, his teeth nipping at her lower lip until she opened with a whimper.

Chocolate flooded her mouth with flavour as she sucked on his tongue. Hermione arched into Severus, one of his arms winding around her. Her breasts were aching. He was warm, his second hand thrusting into her hair. It tumbled down, burying them in its fluff, and he pulled back. His eyes glittering, he growled and kissed her again, his nose bumping against her cheek.

Hermione clutched at the sweat-dampened strands of his hair, thrusting her tongue past his thin lips into his mouth. He tasted _divine_! She wound her leg around him, trying to press his cock between her thighs.

His hips flexed, the arm around her turning to iron and lifting her higher on the wall. Severus's mouth left hers and she gasped for air, then moaned as he trailed hot, hungry kisses down her neck. His teeth scraped as he nipped at her collarbone, and she shuddered.

The bricks scraped, her hair catching, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her fingernails found purchase in the wool of his coat, her vision blurring as Severus suckled on the pulse pounding in her throat. His hand was moving from her hair to her breast, palming it through her clothes—

A loud chime chirped and he lifted his head, panting and looking a bit lost. Severus disentangled himself from her gently, setting her on her feet before reaching for his wand and casting a Tempus.

"Shite," he muttered. His eyes were dark, his hair mussed from her hands, his mouth wet and swollen. "Hermione, I must go tend to my potions."

"I, uh..." She swallowed repeatedly, trying to clear to fog of desire in her brain. "I should get back to work?"

"What time are you off?" His gaze was intent, trailing from her tousled hair, to her kiss-stung lips and down her neck, where it turned possessive. Hermione was willing to bet she had a love bite, and the thought made her body hotter.

"Erm, six-ish, usually."

"Dinner?" Severus glanced at his lingering spell. "I will gladly ensure there is a dessert."

"I'd love to. Meet here?"

"My shop. Every time I have plans, there is always a lingering customer."

Hermione nodded.

"Tonight, then." Severus bent his head and cupped her cheek, kissing her one last time.

And then he was gone, disappearing through the shoppers. Hermione shook her head to clear it and walked towards the Leaky, feeling very dazed. And happy.

* * *

"Hey, 'Mione," said Harry, rapping at her door. "Got a minute?"

"Just one," she replied without looking up as he and Ron came in. "I'm off in a bit."

"We wanted to know if you could help us tonight? They changed the report layout this week and, well..." Harry trailed off. Hermione sighed and looked up at them. "Merlin's balls, Hermione! What happened to your hair?"

"The heat," she said as primly as she could manage. "And let me guess, you both waited last-minute to ask me for help on your reports?"

"Er, yeah," Ron muttered, shame-faced.

"Well, I can't." Hermione blotted the line she'd written, then folded the parchment crisply before tapping it with her wand. It sailed between the boys and out into the hallway. "I have a date."

They gaped, and she was so glad she had left her hair down to cover the bruise she did indeed have on her neck. "Really?"

She scowled. "Yes, really. Now, here—"she handed them each a folder "—is a guide to the new report format so you can get them done. I'm done for the day."

"With who?" Ron asked, trailing after her. Harry was close behind.

"Do we know them?"

"Yes, we were at Hogwarts together, and before you ask, Harry, no, it is not Malfoy, so you can shush." His fixation on the blond was alive and well, and Hermione was hoping not to hear about it again. The two boys looked at each other as they followed her into the lift.

"Tell us how it went, yeah?"

Hermione smiled, pushing the buttons for their floor and the ground floor as arousal washed over her. "Of course."

If their earlier interaction was any indication, it was going to go _very _well indeed.

* * *

A bell chimed softly as Hermione entered Severus's overly-warm shop, and he looked up from his current customer, his mouth twisting in a grimace.

"My office is the door on the left, feel free to await me there," he said. Hermione nodded and left him to his work as the bell chimed again. She heard him swear as the door closed behind her.

She looked around the windowless office: he had only one chair behind the desk, so she seated herself. Who knew how long he'd be? There weren't many things pickled in glass jars, for which she was grateful. Instead, the office held an incredibly sturdy-looking desk, a large file that was half-open and appeared to contain ledgers and files, and several bookshelves filled with tomes that she assumed were on potions as judged by the titles she could read.

Candles hovered at various points, assuring that there was light to read no matter where one stood, and a half-full cup of cold tea was on the edge of the desk by his quill and ink well.

His desk was remarkably tidy.

Hermione sat a while, beginning to fret. She told herself not to be silly, that he had a shop to run, that he wasn't purposely ignoring her. After all, he'd been so terribly responsive earlier. She bit her lip at the memory, bringing a hand up to cup the mark on her neck, flushing.

Merlin, but the shop was warm! Hermione lifted her hair from her neck and pulled her blouse away from her skin. She was still too warm so she rose long enough to discard her turquoise Ministry robes and unbutton the top two buttons of her blouse. Better.

A moment's deliberation and she cast a Mouth-Freshening charm and dug a pack of Toothflossing Stringmints from her pack. The mint was cool, and, she hoped, would mask any lingering breath from her lunchtime tuna sandwich.

She hesitated midway through shoving her robes into her bag, then gave in and Summoned her battered bottle of body spray. She probably smelled like 'office' and sweat, which wasn't really date-material. She had had the bottle for a long time; her mother had given it to her and the label had worn off from being tossed into her trunk and whichever handbag she was using. Hermione was unsure if it was supposed to be vanilla bean or cake frosting or some other cakey fragrance, but she gave herself a quick spritz anyway and settled in to wait.

Getting impatient took her a few minutes longer, but she still drummed her fingers along the desktop before clenching her hands into fists on her lap. She needed to calm herself, maybe think of something pleasant.

Pleasant like their heated kisses earlier? Hermione blushed. Being pinned against the wall by him between scratchy wool and rough bricks, the demanding way he kissed... She squirmed in Severus's chair. Damn, she had meant to think of pleasant things, not turn herself on...but now it was hard _not_ to think of Severus's mouth on her neck, his hand on her breast.

The office door slammed open, making her start guiltily, jumping out of his chair. He frowned. "No need to stand, I just need to file these orders and we can be off."

He came around the desk and bent to the cabinet. He shoved the sheaf of papers in and half-closed the drawer, then straightened. Severus inhaled slowly. "You're wearing perfume."

"Er, yes. I smelled like work, and, well, we're headed to dinner."

Severus flicked a hand at the office door and it closed. "Perhaps dinner should wait."

"Oh?" Hermione smiled, stepping closer to him. All of the sexual tension she had been harboring since the first day she had seen him at the cafe slammed into her.

"Oh yes," he murmured. His knuckles brushed over her jaw before he cupped her cheek. "You smell absolutely edible. That is, if you have no objections?"

"None," she breathed, nuzzling his hand. "I've wanted you since the first time I saw you with that damned Sugar Quill."

His breath hitched and he slid his hand into her wild hair, bending. She rose on tiptoe and met his kiss halfway, tilting her head so his nose rested against her cheek.

His mouth was gentle at first, coaxing as her blood bubbled through her veins. The tenderness made her head spin and she clutched at his coat for support. A growl rumbled through his chest and he pulled her closer roughly. Hermione gasped and he plunged his tongue into her mouth.

She had a fleeting thankful thought for the mints before her focus changed. His hair tickled her face but she didn't care, instead trying to kiss him more deeply. Severus moved his hands down her back, grasping her arse firmly. He lifted his head, panting, and nibbled her earlobe. She nearly swooned at the feel of his teeth, and tugged on his neck.

"More," she urged.

"I can slow down," Severus offered, his silken voice a whisper into her ear.

"After dinner," Hermione choked out. His tongue was swirling behind her ear, and he nipped at the skin there, frazzling her brains.

He pulled back to look at her in disbelief before his expression turned wicked and knowing. The candles made his eyes glitter, and he smirked, studying her. "So there's to be an after?"

"I hope so," she replied, kissing his nose.

"Good."

Severus lifted her onto his desk and she spread her legs, giving him room to step between them. The teacup shattered on the floor, and she heard the steady drip of the inkwell dribbling off the blotter. She didn't care as his lips found her neck, sucking kisses driving her mad. She tugged at his collar, fumbling futilely with the buttons. Severus huffed out a laugh, scraping his uneven teeth against her pulse before sinking them into her flesh.

Hermione moaned at the sweet pain of it as desire pounded through her and her hands jerked, ripping the top buttons free. They clattered across the office floor and she set to work on the rest of the line. He pulled the waist of her blouse free and slid his rough hands to her hips. Her cunt clenched reflexively. She wanted him _now_.

With a sigh, Hermione finally opened his coat, then made a noise of protest when she saw the white dress shirt underneath. Severus pulled back at the sound and she gathered a fistful of his shirt.

"Off," she demanded. He grinned at her, one eye brow rising eloquently, and moved to unfasten the buttons. She merely pulled her own blouse off over the top of her head and hurried with the fastenings of her bra. She tossed it in the general direction of her top just as Severus looked up at her, his shirt and coat hanging open, revealing a mere strip of pale flesh smattered with dark hair, including—she moaned, reaching out to touch it—a line down his belly to the dark trousers.

She swatted his hands away, taking over undoing his belt, and he reached for her small breasts. Hermione jerked the leather free with a clink of the buckle and attacked the buttons. Severus cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples briefly.

As soon as she had undone all but the last button on his placket—damn the man and his buttons!—he pushed her back until she lay across his desk. Severus followed, his mouth hot as it closed around a nipple. She groaned as a hand came up to roll and tug at the other with no preamble, her hips jerking upwards. She slid slightly and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Severus's weight on her was a welcome thing, the buttons on his open clothes digging into her flesh. She clutched at his hair, holding him to her breast as he switched between suckling with long pulls and biting at the soft skin. Bruises blossomed under his mouth and she begged him for more.

He released one nipple to the humid air of his office with an audible pop and moved to the other breast, his hand sliding possessively down her body and then up her skirt to cup her mound. One calloused finger slid under the elastic of her knickers and found her drenched, moving slickly through her folds to stroke her clit.

Fire burned through her and she cried out, pushing him off her, panting. Hermione wrestled out of her knickers, hiking her skirt up and kicking her shoes to the floor with a clunk.

"Come here," Severus growled, pulling her to the edge of the desk. He looked wicked, mostly clothed and she caught a glimpse of his pale shaft before he stepped between her legs. "You are protected?"

Hermione nodded desperately. Of course she bloody was!

"Good. Merlin, you look beautiful." The smooth, blunt head of his cock was hot against her and she thrust her hips up encouragingly, trying to take him in. Severus laughed, a husky sound, holding her still. "Patience, Hermione..."

He slid in slowly, teasingly, ignoring her efforts to greedily impale herself. He was certainly thick, a snug fit within her, and long, judging by the moments it took for her to feel his sac nestled against her. The sheer beauty of him filling her stole her breath. It was everything she had wanted during her fantasies, but now she wanted him to _move_.

"Gods, yes," Severus moaned. "So perfect..." He grasped her thighs and urged her to wrap them around his hips. His skin was warm under his coat and shirt, and he withdrew just as slowly as he had entered her before pushing back in.

Hermione whimpered. "More, _please_..."

"As you wish." His voice was deep and lusty. He adjusted his grip on her waist and pulled out slightly. "Hold onto the desk, Hermione."

She scrabbled for purchase as he thrust in—and it was a thrust, deep and hard, making her cry out in joy. Yes! This was what she had wanted! Dear sweet Merlin, she wanted more. Severus started a rhythm that reduced her to keening within moments. Every thrust jiggled her breasts and struck that wonderful place inside of her.

"You should see yourself," he panted, his face flushed with pleasure. His voice was a low growl that turned her blood to lava. "Feel yourself—Merlin, Hermione, I have wanted this, wanted you..."

Hermione moaned, gripping his desk more tightly. His pace was brutal, exactly what she needed, the roughness of his grip and the feel of his trousers slapping against her clit was sending her spiraling already. It was too much, too soon, but she didn't care, merely urged him onwards with wordless cries as she met his thrusts.

She was going to come, her heart pounding in her ears as each stroke found Severus deep in her body. She could feel herself tightening and she sobbed helplessly, letting go of the wood with one hand to grasp her own breast. Her breath was burning in her throat, coming in gasps that left her lightheaded. Her legs quivered around him.

"Close!" she gasped out, looking up into his dark eyes. They were hooded and dilated with passion, his hair sticking to his cheeks and forehead. "Severus..."

"Come, then," he growled. "I want to feel you come on my cock, Hermione."

Those words, in his voice—! She shuddered, pinching the nipple in her fingers tightly. Severus changed his angle slightly and she cried out.

"There! Right there! Don't stop, don't stop, don't—" She choked on the rest as her toes curled and her body seized in pleasure. She pulsed around him and he groaned, stilling.

Hermione caught her breath to find him still hard within her. "Didn't you—?"

"Not yet." Severus stepped back, withdrawing from her. "I want you to turn over."

"God, yes!" Hermione scrambled off the desk on unsteady legs. He bent her over the desk, pressing her breasts into the wood. Her toes slipped on the spilled ink and he steadied her before changing the desk's height to suit them.

Severus trailed his hand down her spine, her buttocks, and guided himself into place once more with a groan.

"Oh, fuck," Hermione whimpered as he pushed in. He felt so much bigger, the fit even tighter, and that was saying something.

"Yesssss," he hissed. He adjusted his position and reached up, tangling a hand in her hair. She tightened herself around him deliberately.

Severus pulled out and thrust back in roughly. She whimpered again, a tiny sound of pleasure. Oh, _hell_. She slid again on the ink.

"Stay still," he demanded. He swatted her arse lightly.

"Sorry," she gasped. The strike turned her mind to mush.

"Did you like that?" His sex-roughened voice was curious.

"Yes," Hermione replied breathlessly. Severus laughed, his fingers biting into her hip and he began to move, his rhythm steady and demanding. He pistoned into her, almost brutally, and she urged him on. With every thrust his balls slapped her clit and soon she was moaning, wailing, fire consuming her, her breath leaving her in burning pants...

"_Fuck_!" she cried out, realising she was actually heading towards another orgasm.

Severus released her hip, his hand dipping briefly to where his cock was thrusting in and out of her cunt. She felt a curious rubbing sensation, then pressure at her entrance, his thrusts slowing marginally, and then his thumb—was that his thumb?—pressed into her arse.

Hermione cried out as he picked up his pace once more. Pleasure raged through her nerves like wildfire, and she vaguely heard her own voice, begging him not to stop, and thought she heard him urging her towards the peak, his cock rubbing perfectly against the spot inside her that made her see stars, his balls striking her clit just right. She was climbing, reaching, almost, almost...

She cried out his name, a strangled sound, her body feeling light and heavy all at once as she fell, her body leaping for the edge and clamping down on his cock.

Severus growled, tugging on her hair until her back bowed, and he sank his teeth into her shoulder with one last thrust that buried him deep. Hermione whimpered, her vision going white. Behind her, Severus stiffened and groaned. She could feel his cock pulsing and twitching inside of her.

They waited several moments, her heart calming and her breathing evening out.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder, panting harsh breaths, and disentangled his hand from her hair. His touch was soft as he withdrew from both of her orifices. His rough hands caressed her skin and Hermione relaxed against the desk.

Carefully, she let go of the dark wood and flexed her fingers. Oh, Merlin, she was never going to walk again. Her legs were weak as pudding, and given the choice she would do it all again. Severus busied himself behind her before he helped her unsteadily to her feet. She could feel his seed trickling down her thighs as she turned. Severus noticed as his gaze swept over it, and his look turned from sated to heated, his expression possessive at the sight.

Still, he flicked his wand and the mess was gone. Hermione leaned against the desk, smiling weakly when he handed her her knickers. She covered his hand with hers when he would have pulled away, then rose on wobbly tiptoe to kiss his cheek gently.

"Thank you."

His smirk was open and genuine, and he bent to kiss her in return. "Wait until dessert."

Hermione shivered, grinning at him, and Summoned her bra.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: Ah, the final chapter. Over-18 etc, etc... Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you'll have enjoyed the fic!

* * *

Lingering post-coital awkwardness wicked away as they set his office to rights, using a Tergeo for the ink on the wood floor and staining her feet and a Reparo for the shattered teacup. Severus buttoned and straightened his clothes and Hermione located hers, pulling them on without caring if they were rumpled.

She did try to pat her hair down, but wasn't overly worried about it.

Severus did cup her neck, examining it. He didn't even try to look repentant. "You should have your hair down at dinner if you are self-conscious."

Hermione laughed. "Not terribly, but unless you want rumors that you're a vampire flying about..."

His face twisted into an annoyed expression, and he shooed her out of his office, locking the door behind them. "I am not unused to such accusations, but I would rather not tolerate them."

"Of course not. Should I glamour them?" His eyes flicked to her neck again.

"Perhaps not. I confess I enjoy the sight." Severus escorted her out the Knockturn Alley door and began casting his wards for the night. Together, they walked into Diagon Alley. The sun was still high, making the humid day feel even hotter than necessary.

"Here first," Severus said a few shops down. He steered her through knots of people to cross the narrow alley and opened the door to a shop. The sign said 'Cara's Confectionery, Cocoas, and Cremes', and the door jingled merrily.

Hermione was hit with a strong whiff of chocolate and vanilla, and she inhaled it slowly. "Oh, wow."

The shop was beautifully done, with cases of chocolates and biscuits, a cake display, and walls of sweets. Severus quickly plucked items from the shelves more quickly than Hermione could see them, then caught the shopkeeper's attention. The witch nodded with a smile, and Severus led Hermione from the store.

"Er, shouldn't we pay for that?" Hermione asked, bewildered. Severus secreted the items about his person mid-stride. He snorted.

"She saw me. I haven't taken very much so far this month." Severus glanced down at her, an amused smile playing at his lips. "Don't get that look. I invested in her business. Rather than repayment, I simply ask for a sampling when I desire to do so."

Hermione laughed, delighted at the knowledge. Severus Snape not only had a sweet tooth, but enough of one to invest in a confectionery! It felt like special knowledge, somehow. He looked disgruntled at her laugh, but said nothing. She hoped he knew she wasn't laughing_ at_ him, and reached across the gap to catch his hand with hers. Heat tingled as she laced their fingers together, and their hands swung as they walked through the Alley.

* * *

Dinner, Hermione thought, had been a smashing success. They had a surprising amount in common, leaving them plenty to discuss and for pleasant lulls in conversation as they considered the other's points. It was unequivocally the best date she had ever been on. She did, however, do herself a favour by not asking him how often he dated or anything too terribly personal.

It wasn't that she wasn't curious, but rather that she didn't want to pry. Yet. Maybe the second date.

Hermione smiled at him over the rim of her glass and smiled. Yes, a second date sounded lovely—and a second round.

When the bill came, she reached for her bag but Severus placed his hand atop hers. That heat flared again. "I was the one who asked you out."

She set her glass down with a clink. "Thank you, Severus. How about I buy us breakfast, then?"

It was a calculated move and she was repaid with his smile. He snorted. "All the subtlety of a brick."

"That was actually fairly good for me," Hermione said. "Did it work?"

Severus looked at her intently. "And where shall we have breakfast?"

"Well, my cupboards are pretty bare, but there's a bakery around the corner that has to-die-for croissants. Or if you'd be more comfortable at your home, we can do that." A thought struck her. "I do need to stop at my home and feed my cat, either way."

He considered her words, a wicked smile on his lips. "How large is your bed?"

"Er, I hadn't considered that." She was mortified. "It's tiny. I have a twin—Merlin, what would you have thought if I dragged you home and—oh, damn it..."

Severus chuckled, the sound curling through her. "Then would you like to accompany me to my home? There is...something I think you would rather enjoy." There was something about the set of his mouth that caught her interest.

"If you don't mind tagging along to mine first."

"Of course not." His expression turned amused. "I will be pleased to make the acquaintance of your feline."

"Not a cat person?"

"Depends on the cat."

"Crooks is half-Kneazle."

Severus's lips twitched upwards and he reached for his wallet.

* * *

Hermione smiled as she unlocked the door and Crooks came padding up to her. "Hello, Crooks, did you miss Mummy?"

Severus made a strange noise behind her. She gathered the cat into her arms and rose, then shoved him at Severus. "Here. Oh, and close the door behind you or he'll get out and terrorize Mrs. Burton's balcony garden again. Silly old biddy always lets him in, feeds him, then complains when he gets into the plants."

He looked at the orange fluffball in his arms and Hermione smiled as she hurried into her bedroom. It took hardly a minute to grab her prettiest nightdress—not that she hoped to need it—and a change of clothes as well as her toiletries. Did she have everything? Yes? She thought so, and hurried back out to the living room.

The sight that met her had her pausing in the doorway. Severus had conjured some sort of dangling toy and was perched on her sofa while playing with her cat. Both man and feline looked to be having a grand time.

Hermione left them to it and hurried into her small kitchen, dumping an extra-generous scoop of dry food into Crookshanks's bowl before topping off his water dish. When she opened the can of wet food, the cat in question thundered into the kitchen, purring loudly. Severus was not far behind, watching the dance she had to do to get the bowl and mush the food without being tripped as Crooks wound between her legs.

Severus waited until the cat began to eat before speaking. "How terribly domestic."

Hermione smiled. "Is it?"

"Oh yes." He stalked across the kitchen, all grace and presence. Merlin help her, but her knees turned to jelly. Her arse hit the cold edge of the granite counter as he bent over her, his rough hand cupping her cheek. "Very domestic," he murmured. He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. "I'm likely to lift you onto the counter and do terribly wicked things to you, Hermione."

He placed soft kisses along her jaw, his hand sliding to her neck. She moaned softly, tilting her head as he found her pulse. His lips caressed the delicate skin, his teeth scraping teasingly. She wanted him to sink them into her throat, leave a blatant love bite...

"Of course," Severus murmured between kisses, "I did promise you afters."

He withdrew, leaving her cold and breathless with the loss of his touch.

She blinked at him. "I—you..."

Severus sneered, not unkindly. "Use your words."

Hermione scowled, grabbed a fistful of his frock coat and pulled him back down. She kissed him fiercely, reveling in the way he wrapped her into his arms. His lips parted and he suckled on her tongue as much as she fucked his mouth with it. The moment he began to respond with heat, growling low in his chest, she pushed him back.

Severus blinked, breathless and confused. Hermione bared her teeth challengingly at him. "Fuck words."

His laugh, deep and rich, delighted her. He swept her close with one arm, the other sweeping out with his wand. Every lock in her flat clicked audibly, and then he spun them with a crack. He released her carefully and she looked around at the small, dark bedroom.

Or rather, it felt small, seeing as how the room was dominated by a sinfully-large bed. "Oh my."

"Indeed." Severus flicked his wrist and the room brightened. Hermione looked around, but didn't see a light source. "Look up."

She gasped.

"There are benefits to being the former Headmaster." His voice was a low murmur as he brushed her hair over her shoulder. "The enchantments were surprisingly not too difficult, albeit time-consuming."

"Time well spent," she replied, amazed at seeing the night sky in all its glory blazing across his ceiling. "I admit, I've never had sex under the stars before."

Severus snorted softly. "Then I hope it shall not be a singular experience."

Hermione hummed in agreement, tossing her bag onto his bureau. She ignored the sound of the contents clunking in favour of unbuttoning her blouse. Severus's eyes went hot and his fingers flew to his own throat, tugging the little round black buttons from their holes. The blouse fell to the floor and she kicked off her shoes before pushing off her skirt.

He tossed aside his white shirt, and his frock coat on the mattress. Hermione paused. Oh. Oh, my. He was _definitely_ her type! Nibbling on her lip, she stepped forward and stroked a hand down his lightly-furred chest. She hadn't had time earlier to be self-conscious, and knew that she wasn't terribly pretty—big hair, too thin, small breasts, moles, scars, and stretch marks—and his own appearance soothed her insecurities.

Scars littered his skin: some were still pink, like the ones on his neck, and some were silvery-white, like his faded Dark Mark, but they were not too numerous. He was lean, too, his wiry arms strong, as was his chest. But those dark hairs led down the slight pudge of his soft stomach and into the waistline of his trousers. A weakness of hers. She smiled at him, following those hairs and reaching for his belt.

His brow arched, but Severus simply waited, letting her undo his trousers. The buckle clinked, and with a pull the leather hissed cleanly through the loops. She dropped it to the floor, unbuttoning his placket. His lean chest rose and fell with his shallow breath, his expression hungry. Pop, pop, pop, pop... The last of the buttons undone, she unhooked the clasp and caught his undergarment as she pushed the fabric off his narrow hips. It pooled around his boots, and she admired his rather impressive cock before realising what else the cut of his clothes had hidden from the world.

Oh. _Oh_. Hermione felt positively giddy. Not only had she discovered his sweet tooth, those dimples when he smiled—truly smiled—but Severus Snape had _love_ _handles_. Just little ones, but she was entranced.

Fingers trailing over the straps of her bra, tracing the cups to the claps, distracted her from her debate on whether or not he'd kick her out on her arse if she groped his love handles. Instead, she was much more interested in struggling out of her bra and knickers while he kicked off his boots and socks.

Severus ran a gentle hand between her breasts, over the faint scarring there, before pulling her close. His cock was hot and firm against her belly. Her breath caught at the feel of the crisp hair on his chest against her, and she tilted her face to meet his kiss.

Kissing Severus was delightful—he was certainly dedicated to doing it properly. Within moments Hermione had buried her hands in his hair, trying to moan and breathe simultaneously proving difficult. As did thinking, for that matter.

His growl set her on fire as she found herself picked up and bodily placed on the bed.

Severus's bed was sinful indeed. Not too firm, not too soft, and the sheets were divine. The man who usually occupied the space abandoned her, and Hermione sat up with a crackle of static from her hair. Severus was rummaging through his coat and pulling out the items he had selected at the confectionery.

"Lay down," he murmured. "I promised you sweets."

Eager and curious, Hermione lay back. Severus joined her fully on the bed. He kissed her hungrily, blotting out her thoughts until something cool and sticky brushed over her breasts, was rubbed over her nipples. It stopped, then more whatever-it-was was brushed over her belly and lower. It was a bit disconcerting to have the slimy substance smeared over her skin between excellent kisses.

She twisted her head, uncomfortable. "What—"

"Echauffe," Severus murmured. The stickiness began to turn more liquid, heating. Tingling spread from her nipples to her clit and Hermione's breath caught. Severus looked down at her smugly. "Self-heating fudge sauce. Body-safe."

"Oh." Her voice was small; indeed, she could scent the warming chocolate fragrance. It was more than pleasant, and a different sort of heat made itself known. "Oh!"

His hair tickled her ribs as he lowered his mouth to lap at the chocolate he had smeared over her skin. The feel of his wet, hot mouth at her breast shattered the discomfort in favour of _more_. More chocolate, more Severus, more everything.

"I am unsure which is more palatable, the chocolate or yourself."

Hermione shuddered, raising her arms to hold his head to her. He obliged her, drawing her nipple into his mouth. Severus caught it between his teeth, pulling and suckling strongly. He bit down and she arched with a curse.

Moaning when his hair was pulled, Severus redoubled his efforts. The heat blossoming in her was in full bloom. Her pants were harsh with each pull of his mouth, her eyes clenched shut despite the enchanted star-lit ceiling. His leg pinned her to the bed, his cock hard and hot against her leg. It jumped in rhythm to his ministrations.

She was going mad, both breasts cleaned of chocolate and his tongue laving the remainder from her stomach. His nose bumped her skin. It felt so good, and she wriggled, trying to part her thighs to urge his hands lower. What would that chocolate feel like, warming against her clit, her folds? How would it taste, drizzled over his cock?

Her hands trembled and she combed her fingers through his hair, finally wrestling a leg free. She spread her legs and lifted her hips. Severus chuckled, leaving a love bite on her belly, right by the mole she hated. Something firm tapped her knee and she forced her eyes open.

Between chocolate-coated fingers he held a delicate white Sugar Quill, the stasis charm broken. The arousal already in her blood turned molten.

With his head tilted and eyes hooded, Severus drew the feather over her clit. She squeaked, and he repeated the act, delving between her lips. When the feather reappeared in her field of vision, she could see her own dampness clinging to the fragile fluff.

He inhaled, his nostrils flaring. His eyes were so dark she could no longer discern iris from pupil, a glittering, possessive fire in their depths. "You still smell like my come from earlier."

And then the bastard licked it! Licked the feather smeared with her arousal! Hermione's breath escaped her in a rush at the sight and he smirked knowingly as the sugary feather dissolved in his mouth.

"Delicious," he purred. The quill was slid against her cunt again, tickling and teasing. Hermione moaned softly, trying to follow the motion.

As the feather disappeared, devoured by his tongue, Hermione struggled to stay reasonably sane. She was needy, on edge, and yet she couldn't find her voice to demand more.

Severus moaned as the white stem passed his lips again, the feathery bits gone. He opened his eyes, black and unfathomable, and met hers.

"Tease," she whispered hoarsely.

"Says the witch who drove me to taking matters into my own hand in my own office because of her misuse of a sucker." Severus discarded the sugar stem and shifted. The bed creaked as he moved between her legs.

"That was payback for the uh..." Hermione paused. "The...uh...the cauldron cake!"

Severus chuckled, calloused fingers probing her folds. "_Your_ cauldron is drenched." He paused deliberately. "I wonder if you will be as creamy?"

"I—oh!" Hermione covered her face with her hands as her cheeks flamed and her voice rose several octaves. Severus had buried his face in her cunt.

His teasing with the cake had _nothing_ on the reality. Within seconds he had her sobbing. A few more found her begging and babbling by turns. His nose rubbed her, teased her. His tongue curled and stroked. His fingers slid into her channel, thrusting and curling. Each muffled groan made her clench. He took her high too quickly, too fast. She teetered on the edge, nearly terrified of the pleasure hardening her aching nipples.

Then she was gone, screaming and pulsing. Her body clamped down hard on his fingers, her hips grinding against his talented mouth.

"Stop!" she choked out, trembling as tears ran down her face. "Too much!" Severus was quick to clamber up the bed, gathering her into his arms. He soothed her with musky kisses, stroking her face with gentle touches. His legs tangled easily with hers and she took deep, shuddering breaths.

"Sorry," Hermione managed. "I...I've killed the mood."

He made an inelegant sound. "Hardly." He thrust his hips against her. He was still more than able to perform. "There is more chocolate."

She laughed breathlessly, and she sat up slowly. She was lightheaded, but gratefully took the jar of fudge from him. The label was easy enough to read and it opened smoothly. The contents were sticky and clung to her fingers. Severus shifted to his back.

"Do as you will."

Hermione smiled. "Oh, I don't think _that_ will be a problem."

"I did not think it would," Severus purred. He lifted his own chocolate-smeared fingers to his mouth and cleaned them, laving each digit as she watched, her cheeks burning.

The fudge clinging to her fingers dripped, landing on his lightly-furred thigh in little blobs. He jerked as they hit him, dragging her attention back to her intended task at hand. Hermione smiled and dipped her fingers back into the jar.

Leaning over him, she painted his neck down to his chest, taking care to coat his pink nipples. Her hair threatened to drag through the chocolate, but she didn't give a damn. It was far more important to scoop up the fudge and drizzle it over his shaft and balls. Her mouth watered, and she handed Severus the jar. He set it on the dark wood bedside table. His cock jumped and he gave her a small grin, as he settled back against the pillows.

Smiling back, Hermione bent to kiss him. She first brushed her lips over that adorable dimple. Her hand sunk into the pillow, leaving a chocolate smear, and her hair fell about them like a curtain as she kissed him gently. Severus tasted like chocolate, the rich and bitter kind she liked best over vanilla ice cream, and her kisses went from languorous to hungry.

Nipping at his ear made him groan, and whispering "Echauffe" against his neck had him inhaling sharply as the fudge melted and warmed on his skin. Her tongue traced the scarring on his neck until she found chocolate. Flavour bursting over her tongue, she sucked on his skin, determined to clean every possible inch.

The scars must have been sensitive, for Severus swore in a rough tone, his hips moving and his hand moved to her hair, lifting it up and holding it atop her head so he could watch her progress down to his chest.

She devoured the chocolate coating his skin. His soft moan as her teeth found his nipple spurred her on. Hermione nibbled on the small tightening bud, his long fingers digging deeper into her bushy hair. She attended the second nipple the way of the first, reveling in the crisp feel of his chest hair and the harshness of his breathing.

"Please," Severus groaned, urging her down.

Hermione laughed.

"Bloody temptress," he muttered breathlessly.

She took pity on him, kissing and licking the drips of fudge from his soft belly. Around his navel, his erection hit her chin and he groaned. Hermione sat back, wiping chocolate from her jaw with a smile as her hair, freed from his hands, tumbled down. He made an audible sigh, his lips parting at the sight.

Severus shifted and Hermione knelt between his legs. Bending, she kissed away the fudge on his thigh. His breathing hitched at the caress of her lips, and she took her time cleaning his skin, even laving one spot until she realised it was a large chocolate-coloured mole.

His balls were next, receiving careful attention. His hands clenched rhythmically in the soft sheets, panting as the last traces of fudge were cleansed from the delicate skin. Now the only chocolate remaining on his body adorned his cock.

With a soft sigh, her thighs slick with desire, Hermione moved until she could brush her lips over the flared head of his erection. She lifted it, cradling him at the base. Severus let out the sweetest sound she had ever wrested from a bed-partner at the touch of her tongue, his hips swiveling encouragingly.

He was certainly large, his lovely shaft thick and uncut, with beautiful veins. Humming happily, she licked his length, much as she had with the edible Mark. She slid her tongue over every thick inch of him, devouring the chocolate and making him slick enough for her to envelope him in her mouth.

He hissed through his teeth, his hands finding her hair again. They knotted in the mass as she started to suckle him. She swirled her tongue up his length, she sucked on his head until he groaned, she took him into her throat until she gagged.

The most beautiful sounds she had ever heard escaped his throat. Hermione heard and felt Severus come undone as she pleasured him, and she was positively drenched just from listening to him. Severus's silken voice was utterly ragged, his hands tightening in her hair, and his uncontrolled moans spilled over his lips between pleas.

Licking him like a lolly made him buck his hips. Sucking him deeply made him beg for more. Drunk on the euphoria of making him make those noises, Hermione redoubled her efforts. The chocolate flavour was long gone but the pale man writhing under her was just as delicious. She whimpered as his hands tightened and he pulled her off his cock and up his body.

"Stop," he managed roughly, circling her throat with a calloused hand. He kissed her deeply until her head spun and she clutched at his arms.

They moved together on the bed, his hands wandering over her body as Severus nipped at her neck. Hermione gasped as his probing fingers found her slick.

"Fuck," Severus groaned into her neck. He pulled away to kneel between her thighs. "Yes?"

"Merlin, yes," Hermione replied breathlessly. She wrapped her legs around his narrow waist and Severus guided himself into place. He rubbed the head of his cock over her clit and she lifted her hips to encourage him.

"I'm going to tie you to my bed if you don't stop that," he chided. Colour sat high on his cheeks. Severus began to push into her cunt and Hermione moaned in dismay when he stopped with just the head, teasing her.

"Later," she promised. "Please, Severus..."

His head fell back as he obliged her. Hermione was certain that the image of his black hair spilling over his shoulders like ink was seared into her mind. She clenched around him and his hips jerked.

"Tight," he grunted. Severus opened his eyes to look at her, lips parted slightly. He shifted, and she swore she could feel every vein on his impressive cock.

Slowly he began to move, until Hermione gasped as he found the right angle. Severus paused to grasp her hands with his, lifting them over her head with their fingers laced. He pressed their joined hands into the mattress.

"Hold on," he murmured, his breath hot against her lips. He gave her a teasing, sucking kiss, and then began to move in earnest. His hipbones were sharp but she didn't care, moving to meet each thrust.

"Oh, fuck," Hermione whimpered, unable to keep her eyes open to watch him. His chest hair rasped against her nipples, his cock stroking in and out of her just right, just right, just...

"Yes, come," he urged, his pace steady. "Come, Hermione, _please..."_

She keened, her back arching, unable to believe he'd brought her to orgasm so quickly. Severus slowed and she pried her lashes open to see him looking down at her, his expression marveling. He changed his grip to hold both of her wrists with one hand.

"I need you to come again," Severus said. His voice curled through her orgasm-befuddled mind and Hermione had no idea what possessed her to nod. "Good..."

His hand dropped to where they joined, and he smeared her own juices over her clit. Rubbing the sensitive nub, Severus began to thrust again, hard and deep. It left her gasping in his grip as pleasure flooded her senses.

She cried out at the feel of both his cock pistoning in and out of her and the attention to her clit. Sweat shone on his skin, a single droplet from his nose landing on her chest. Fire sang in her blood, tension coiling in her belly and then, yes, she was climbing again, cresting... She sobbed, her nipples tight and needy, her cunt throbbing, so close, almost...

Hermione inhaled sharply as she shuddered, then moaned his name. She came hard, her hands twisting in his grip.

"_Fuck_!" Severus's breath exploded out of him and he increased his speed, his angle. Hermione was still reeling as his panting grew harsh, ragged, and his eyes went dark. He bent forward and bit the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. Hermione gasped and convulsed. He thrust once, twice, thrice more, then stiffened with a deep groan. She could feel each pulse as he came, his heavy cock twitching.

He caught himself before falling atop her and kissed her tenderly.

She smiled up at him, reveling in the crooked grin he returned. "That was certainly the best afters I've ever had."

* * *

"Hermione," a voice crooned in her ear. She mumbled something incoherent and burrowed deeper into the soft pillows. A masculine chuckle huffed over her bare shoulder. "Wake up, witch. It is after noon, and I was promised breakfast."

"Tomorrow," she muttered, but rolled over to face her bed-partner anyway. She blinked, frowning. "Morning."

Severus snorted, his damp hair leaving spots on the sheets. "It is past one."

"Oh, Merlin!" She sat up, nearly smacking him in the nose. Her hair puffed out around her, filled with tangles and static. "And I did promise you food!"

His look was cunning. "And here I thought you just said 'tomorrow'..."

"What about your shop?" He nuzzled her neck and she shivered.

"Closed today," he muttered between kisses. "Already put a sign up. We can take care of your cat later, before you ask."

Hermione hummed happily, giving him access to her shoulder. "I need to use the toilet, but after..."

"After?" Severus prompted, releasing the skin he'd sucked into his mouth. She was going to have another mark, she knew it.

"Er, after... You wouldn't happen to have any more of those Sugar Quills, would you?"

-The End-


End file.
